


The Khal's Prize

by LittlePoison



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Harems, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:02:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25784836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittlePoison/pseuds/LittlePoison
Summary: Drogo has taken King's Landing, and now Westeros is his. In the Tower of the Hand the Khal visits his three beautiful captives, Jon Snow, Jaime Lannister and Tommen Baratheon. Contains smut.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	The Khal's Prize

**Author's Note:**

> Couple things are important to mention here. Firstly, this is obviously the much older, young adult version of Tommen, NOT the Tommen from the books. This is set in an alternate universe where Drogo has invaded the Seven Kingdoms without Daenerys and subsequently defeated both the Lannister forces and Jon Snow, the King in the North. Very explicit fic, MAY write more about this scenario I haven't decided yet, but either way expect more GOT smut from me.

The king in the north stood nude and docile in the sunlight, diligently waving a lace fan into his master's face. Khal Drogo reclined in the pillows, enjoying the breeze. Conquering the Seven Kingdoms had been a long and bloody ordeal, but finally the land was his, and Drogo meant to enjoy the spoils.

The tower of the hand was claimed for his personal chambers, and here he kept his slaves confined. In Dothraki culture, slaves were not permitted any clothes at all, to remind them that they are less than men.

His footrest had been a man once, golden-haired Jaime Lannister was all pride and valour when he marched to meet Drogo in Dorne, but now he kneeled on all fours as obedient as a dog beneath his master's feet.

Drogo knew the slaves had no love for him, but their loyalty was enough. From the balcony they could see for leagues, and every day fires burned beyond the city walls. The khalasar pillaged their way through Westeros, killing high and lowborn alike. No doubt Drogo's slaves were grateful for the safety of their tower.

King Tommen Baratheon looked particularly beautiful in the sunset light, his legs swinging lazily behind him as he swallowed his masters cock. The young king did not hate Drogo the way the others did, and sometimes there was even a flash of affection in his eyes. The slightly effeminate boy was beginning to see the Khal as something of a father figure, though his biological father was in bondage alongside him and often shared in the duties of pleasuring Drogo's cock.

Tommen's extraordinary mouth was bringing Drogo close. Drogo clicked his fingers at Jon and Jaimie, and the two men knelt either side of Tommen and looked up at their master, mouths hanging open.

Holding the back of Tommen's neck, Drogo spilled his seed, one hot burst shot down the boy king's throat before Drogo pushed him away and let loose small ropes of seamen into Jon and Jaimie's hungry faces.

“Thank you master,” they each said, licking the excess seed from their fingers.

Drogo knew he had trained them well.

* * *

“This is our life now,” Jaime had said. “Is it so wrong if we try to enjoy it?”

Jon promised he would never enjoy it. The tower of the hand was a place of luxury, he had to admit, every day he dined on exquisite cuisine and lay upon velvet pillows, but at what cost? To be denied his freedom and dignity, kept naked as a pet for Drogo to play with.

Right now it was the Khal's tongue doing the playing. Jon hanged halfway from the bed, his hands touching the marble floor, while Drogo had his way.

Jon bit his lip. Every moan of pleasure that escaped his mouth brought great shame. Drogo's tongue worked mercilessly, and by the end Jon's lip bled down his chin.

When Drogo saw this, he wiped it off. “No,” he said, and then, “go.”

Jon left the bed, and then with a click of Drogo's fingers, Jaime replaced him. The Kingslayer lay on his front and spread his legs. “The Stark boy is as cold and stony as Winterfell,” he spoke to Drogo out loud. “But us Lannisters are warm and golden. No doubt my son has shown you that already.”

Tommen blushed at his harp, in captivity he had learned to play the most beautiful music, often practising when Drogo was having his pleasure with Jon or Jaime. The boy blushed deeper still when Drogo mounted Jaime from behind and took him like a woman.

Jon wanted to leave, to escape the sounds of the Kingslayer's gasps and King Tommen's harp, but he knew better than to leave the room undismissed. Instead he sat on the pillowed floor and tried to imagine himself somewhere else.

“Father,” Tommen spoke, still fingering his harp. “You musn't say such unkind things. Jon is our family now, and he is as beautiful as any Lannister.”

Where the King had gotten his gentle nature, Jon did not know. Tommen did most of the housework in the tower uncomplainingly, and he was as generous with his body as he was with his labour. Jon had enjoyed the King's smooth curves more times than he was proud of, but fucking a pretty boy made Jon feel less of a horselord's whore.

Jaime answered his son through shudders of ecstasy as Drogo pulled at his hair. “Ugh- wolves are not easily tamed, Tommen- Ahh! - Snow is pretty enough, though you – Yes! Yes! - you are prettier, and I the more obedient cock-slave – mmm- he would do well to remember that.”

The insinuation was obvious, Jon was expendable. If he did not please Drogo, sooner or later he would end up like those outside the city walls, the men and women whose screams Jon heard in the night.

The kingslayer smiled a twisted grin as Drogo fucked him.

“I am obedient to my Khal,” Jon's said, dripping with venom. He would not let Jaime make an outcast of him. Jon climbed back onto the bed beside Jaime, putting his face to the sheets and lifting his hips to the air.

He was still wet where Drogo's tongue had been. Now the Khal's fingers played in circles around Jon's tenderness. Jaime moaned when he felt the horeslord's cock slide out of him, but it was soon replaced with calloused finger near as thick.

“Jealousy ill-suits a king, Snow,” Jaime japed. “But whose ass does the Khal prefer?”

Tommen crawled between them, assuming the same position. “Perhaps mine,” he smiled mischievously.

Drogo looked down at his three prizes. It pleased him to see them completing for attention.

Let them compete, he thought. That night he fucked all three on top of one another, and every night from then on his slaves would beg for the same again.


End file.
